The New Trend
by IntraSule
Summary: There are many stupid trends that go on in Karakura town, some with songs, some with dance, some still with fashion. But they all have something in common: they're all still stupid.
1. Chapter 1

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched violently. All day when he arrived in school, he's encountered the same chagrin over and over: idiotic trends. He should get used to coming to some new stupid trend happening at his school; heck, he could say that he did integrate stupid trends to his academic routine. Did he _not _survive the whole "boo-ha-ha-ha" signature laughter brought on by the "great" Don Kanonji? Did he _not _pass through the week of creature hats and the sounds the wearers made to imitate what animal they wore? And just yesterday, did he _NOT _hold his head high despite being scolded for not going bold and wear the red pleated skirts with the pink breast cancer ribbon embroidered on the folds? (It wasn't that he didn't support the movement behind the act- he has two little sisters and a father with man-boobs for Pete's sake- it was wearing something so girly and frilly for him.) So whatever new stupid craze comes his way at his, he can take care of himself!

Well, that was until today, as Ichigo stood at the entrance of his fifth-period class, arms crossed, forehead vein throbbing in annoyance, and his eyebrow twitching madly. Coming into school earlier today, he was already approached by his classmates showing him the newest craze, sly smirks on their faces telling him that this will indefinitely piss him the frig off. So here he was, just waiting, absolutely _wishing _that one more person comes to him and do that unspeakably stupid thing. He just needs a reason to punch someone, and that someone can come up to him and-

"Hey, Ichigoooooooo!" Keigo cheered as he jumped from the other side of the classroom to where Ichigo stood. "Guess what day it is today, dearest pal?"

"Heh, what day is it, dearest pal Keigo?" Ichigo said, already cracking his knuckles and feeling a satisfied smirk creep on his face.

" It's Friday, Friday! Gotta get down on Friday! Yeah!"

*WHOOP-POW!*


	2. Chapter 2

With the little push of a certain FanFiction member *cough coughxJ11Cxcough cough*, I've decided to add another chapter to this after a long overdue decision-weighing. So, without further adieu, I bring you- Chapter 2! (Should I be creeped out by the rhyming that happened by total accident? 0_o)

Disclaimer: Really? Do you think I'd be publishing my stories about Bleach on a fan fiction website instead of in the manga series if I owned Bleach? You fools. _

She couldn't escape it.

Everywhere she turned, it seemed that Tatsuki was being followed by some supernatural demon that takes pleasure in cursing her with the same annoyance again and again and again. It was almost like a bad omen following her in each of her reincarnations, waiting to smash her head with a falling piano or have her ran over by a bus, repeating the same meanings to her demise over and over again because it was so darn funny to the omen casters that ruled humans' fate. At the very least, Tatsuki almost wished that she was ran over by a bus or decapitated by a falling piano, because then that would mean the end of having to drag through this torturous disease of society, a disease that claimed so many innocent lives, yet still runs rampant without anyone searching for a cure.

Of course, this "disease" wasn't an actual disease, but it might as well be labeled as one. What it was, in the brilliant words of Ichigo Kurosaki, "another idiotic trend." Yes, after much thought, Tatsuki did see the idiocy behind this certain trend; so many people blindly drew themselves to it like moths to a light bulb, lured by the initial brilliance and burned with its dangerous touch. Even she could admit to having been lured by its light; she remembered how she would empty out her personal piggy bank to follow the trend like a crack addict empties out his wallet to get the next high. But before she delved too deep into the trend's illness, she was able to find the flaws of it and break free before she caught its disease.

_Heh, disease_, Tatsuki thought to herself. _Why does that term fit so well? _Leaning back on the park bench, Tatsuki began to wonder which type of disease it would be- a physical ailment that caused the body to move in unnatural and rhythm-less movements call "dancing", or a mental disorder that fooled the psyche into believing that true music was in the form of autotune, electric beats, and a voice that did not sing, but talked throughout the entire play, rising and lowering in its tempo and tone- when Orihime jogged up to her, breathless and clutching a small DJ Majix store bag to her ample breasts.

"Hey, Tatsuki, you would never guess what I just got from DJ Majix!" Orihime half-squealed.

"Eh, no, I wouldn't guess, and hi to you, too," Tatsuki replied.

Orihime giggled in delight and yelped, "I GOT THE NEW 'Boyfriend' ALBUM BY JUSTIN BIEBER!"

"Oh, I see," Tatsuki sighed, rolling her eyes and subtly shaking her head.

Even when she managed to become immune, Tatsuki wasn't able to cure her friend of the Bieber fever.

~~ Heh, this was longer than I expected it to be. Even longer than the first chapter.

Well, now you've read, now you go review! (please.)


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, my fellow Bleach otakus, after many days of uninspired writer's block, I have finally managed to glean an idea for the here, the now, the Chapter 3! :D

Disclaimer: Really? Will editors make me suffer so much that they'll keep forcing me to face the fact that I don't make or own the awesome Bleach anime and manga? If so, then that's just sick! D:

Chad Yasutora rubbed the bridge of his nose in boredom and exhaustion. He was logged on to one of his school's library computers, headphones stuffed into his ear and blasting "Creeping in my Soul" into his head. He looked over his shoulder repeatedly to look out for the librarian and the ever-so-strict student library assistants; he was supposed to use the library time to finish his essay on World War II and Japan's involvement with it, but he just became so bored so quickly (about five minutes into the typing) that he just had to do some web surfing. So he signed into his YouTube account, went to his Cryoshell play list, and let the thing go onto auto play as he opened up a new tab and signed into his Facebook page, and there it was, glowing with all of its glorious megabytes.

He hated this type of thing, this stupid new trend that took over Facebook and pretty much any website that has a large user base with millions to billions of people logging in and creating accounts on a daily basis. At first, Chad enjoyed it because he gets a good show time and time again with lots of variety to choose from, but now, now it's just plain stupid. After browsing through them all without a second glance, Chad can say for sure that this was the worst thing to happen to Facebook since the changing of its format. A flashing fire red hyperlink that read "hot new stuff right here!" caught his eye; but still, he knew what it meant and would kill himself if he went for it, but he had time to kill, and the prospect of a show- even if it was part of one of many Facebook's stupid trends- sure did beat boredom by a long shot. He clicked on the hyperlink, but it was totally not what he was expecting, even if it went under the category.

Chad's eyes widen in shock; then, when the complete shock was drained out of him, he rubbed the bridge of his nose again, this time in frustration. Finding pictures of half-naked stupid girls wasn't the worst trend to happen to Facebook; no, it was finding a picture of that idiot Keigo posing with a puckering duck face in his dirty bedroom and sporting daisy duke shorts and a bikini top that was the worst thing to ever happen to Facebook…


	4. Chapter 4

Bleach ain't mine!

It was another ordinary Saturday afternoon for Karin. Or, at least it should've been. If it were to be another Saturday afternoon, then Karin should've been able to make it to her weekly soccer practice with absolutely no problems- besides the occasional annoyance of a class-D Hollow that Ichigo somehow keeps forgetting to kill off- and be able to enjoy herself. Karin would've been able to release her pent-up energy and weekly stress by kicking the ball around the field, scoring awesome goals, "accidentally" injuring one or two players in the process, but it wasn't to be so.

Instead, Karin now gets to wake up Saturday mornings and expect some mindless buffoons to enact on the newest stupid trend they've picked up along their dull, meaningless lives. She sighed and blew a lock of hair from her face as she packed up the last of her soccer uniform and her bottled water. Slinging the bag over a shoulder and cradling her soccer ball in the other arm, Karin slid down the stair rail to the living room and ran outside, calling over her shoulder, "I'm off. See you guys later!"

After a long, jog to the playing field, Karin let the bag slide off her shoulder, taking quick gasps of breaths to bring her body back into its calm homeostasis. She bent down and placed the soccer ball in-between the curves of her small feet. Noticing that one of her shoes' laces became undone, she took the laces in her fingers and began to retie them. When she stood straight again, she looked ahead at the field and noticed a group of boys- the Neighborhood Nitwits, she likes to call them- huddled together, their heads bent low in privacy and their shoulders shaking in what may be laughter. Karin picked up her items and crept her way up to the group.

"What are you guys doing?" Karin asked.

The boys jumped, but they didn't turn. Instead, one of them retorted, "What does it look like we're doing?"

"Looks like you're all doing a circle jerk," Karin observed.

'Heh, well, toots, you're wrong about that," the same boy sneered. "What we're doing is something simple, yet complex, something that'll make anyone- even _you _- lose their mind, yet makes them do it everyday…"

"Oh, dude, you're not-?" Karin asked with an eye twitch.

The boys jumped to face Karin in a formation, each of them wearing big, goofy sunglasses and tee shirts brandishing either the "LMFAO" logo or the logo depicting the faceless shuffling man dancing sideways. The boys said simultaneously "Everyday, we're shuffling!" and broke out into their planned number of running in place and punching towards the ground.

As they continued their flash mob routine, Karin took a quick look of the boys' formation, placed the ball in front of her feet, and at a certain angle, kicked it to one boy. The ball hit the boy in the face, and the momentum from the impact forced the ball to hit the other boy in front of him, and then the ball traveled sideways to hit the next target, and it went on like this until the ball smacked the last boy. The entire group laid unconscious on the grass as the ball made its way back to Karin's feet.

"Shuffle that," Karin mumbled as she planted her foot on top of the ball.


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter was inspired by the song Peridot0814 suggested to me (P.S. It was something I seriously laughed my butt off at! X'D) So, for those that like this chapter, give half your thanks to her. For any song producers that feel offended at their songs being used in this, take your subpoenas to her. (Just kidding.). ;-3) But to be sure that no one gets sued for this: Nothing about this story except for the plot used to create it belongs to me.

Uryu stood in the line of the crafts store, the cart of assorted materials like fabrics, colorful threads, measuring tape, and fabric glue and paint sitting in front of him. He leaned on the push bar, sighing and tapping the toe of his foot on the ground. After ten minutes had past, he leaned over the side to see the condition of the check-out line. So far as he could see, the elderly man was still sifting through his knapsack to find spare change to pay off the remaining price, the cashier looking just as impatient and exhausted as his customers. Uryu went back to leaning on his cart's push bar and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

He shouldn't be this anxious; this was supposed to relax him. After all, it was a Friday evening, a time Uryu reserved for shopping for sewing tools and craft items when school was done. Every Friday, he strolled (more like skipped merrily) from the school's district to The Sunflower Maker- the coolest crafts and boutique store Karakura had to offer- to wind down after a week of hard academic work and his daily duties as a Quincy. He loves the way simply pushing around a shopping cart through aisles of beautiful fabrics, buttons, threads, sewing needles and sketch pads for designs brightens his mood. Sometimes he doesn't even go to The Sunflower Maker to shop; he enjoys trading embroidery ideas and getting crafting advice from the store's owner. Going to The Sunflower Maker is Uryu's inexpensive way of treating himself.

Or at least it was, until he made an unfortunate encounter with someone about five weeks ago. He was on his way to The Sunflower Maker after another Friday of school when this hoodie-clad jerk stepped up in front of him and…did something that Uryu didn't know anything about. At first, Uryu thought that the guy was a victim of a physiological disorder and politely looked away, but hearing the song that seemed to follow the man and looking closely at the man's movements have shown that what the man was doing wasn't involuntary at all. Still, Uryu politely ignored him, but it failed when the man started to follow Uryu around. It wasn't just at the crafts store, either; it seemed that whatever public place Uryu was in, the man was there, ready to give Uryu his daily dose of annoyance.

Uryu glanced around frantically for that mysterious thug, but he didn't see him anywhere nearby. He sighed in relief; even though he knew that the man was probably nearby, Uryu can at least relax a bit while in line. He felt a finger tap on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, Uryu, but do you know what time it is?" a gruff voice asked.

Uryu turned around at the mention of his name to find Isshin Kurosaki standing behind him. "Kurosaki-san! What a surprise! I didn't know you shopped here!" he exclaimed as he looked at the carrying basket of folded shirts hanging in Isshin's hand.

"Yeah, I like to come here on my free time to buy some trendy clothes," Isshin replied. After a few moments of silence, Isshin cleared his throat and repeated, "The time?"

"Oh, right! It's- er- 7 o'clock!"

"7 o'clock, huh?" Isshin said. Then, in an almost-shout, he said, "I guess that it's close to the weekend, so…"

Uryu cocked an eyebrow in confusion when Isshin dug through his basket and pulled out shades, a hoodie, and a hat, but it all became horrifyingly clear when he began to put the clothing on, and heard that dreadful song playing. "Oh, no…"

Isshin laid his basket on the floor and leaned back with his arms hanging behind him, tilting his head back and waving his arms behind him when the song played: "Hold your head back like a nosebleed coming through." He was giggling like a madman as he rapped along, "Like Bernie, we movin' like Bernie!"

Uryu felt his eyebrow twitch and his lips move into the annoyed half-smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose again. As much as he hated agreeing with that orange-furred baboon, he had to say that Ichigo was right: new trends are so freaking ridiculous.


	6. Chapter 6

All righty, I've been long overdue with this chapter (not that you guys were waiting. *sniff sniff sob*) so here you go, until my next plot bunny comes along. This one was requested by Shirahoshi, so it's mainly for him or her.

Disclaimer: There you go.

Usually, a quick mandated tour to Karakura town to check up on the town's current Hollow-free affairs and see if Ichigo's fulfilling his Soul Reaper duties as ordered would be a perfect, trouble-free trip for Rukia and Renji. (save for a few Hollow attacks that must be taken care of). Heck, sometimes they would make this visit and go for a quick trip to the sauna or the ice cream parlor without so much concern. That is, until the report of a strange attack.

A few months ago, Hinamori and Toshiro covered a week's tour in Karakura town and actually made plans as if it was a fun vacation. Now that the rule that made Soul Reapers reside in their invisible realm was vetoed, Soul Reapers can choose to roam about in their gigais among the mortals, and many Soul Reapers took advantage of that new freedom, including Hinamori and, reluctantly, Toshiro. They left with suitcases and cameras and extra money, and came back a week later with a look.

It was a look of embarrassment, of shame, and… fear. When the pair returned with such a look, everyone went into a panicked frenzy. They swarmed Toshiro and Hinamori with questions, wanting to know what had frightened Soul Society's sweetheart and made the usually icy and reserved Captain suddenly and uncharacteristically shake in his boots. They didn't say anything to anyone, saving their attack as only a report to the Head Captain. That was when the news came about- the news of a strange yet disturbing attack that can destroy even the strongest spirit. The news that occurred over and over with each Soul Reaper's tour of Karakura town. The news that had Rukia and Renji cowering into each other, watching their surroundings warily, shaking as if the summer's arid air was a sub-zero snow storm.

Rukia sighed for the third time that minute. "Renji, this isn't right," she said softly as she looked down at the sidewalk.

Renji looked down at Rukia and nodded. "You're right; we're Soul Reapers, we shouldn't be cowering in fear because of some weak humans' stupid, degrading attacks! We've been through worse, and _now_ we go crazy berserk because of some attack that hasn't even happened to us?! Bull shit!"

Rukia looked up at Renji with widen eyes, then her expression changed from sullen and frightened to fierce and hopeful. "Renji, you're right!" She agreed as she stepped away from Renji, her posture displaying her newfound strength and determination. "We shouldn't let some new stupid threat deter us! If someone were to come and attack us with their new stupid trick, we should look them in the face and tell them: 'come at us, bro'!"

"Gladly! QAFFADI!"

Rukia and Renji both yelped in distress and surprise as they each felt a phallic-shaped object lodge into their rear ends. They both turned around in flushed and angry faces as they looked at their two attackers, Chizuru with her novelty miniature baseball bat and Mizuiro with his water bottle and a video camera. They were both doubled over in uncontrollable laughter.

"Ngh! What the hell is wrong with you two?!" Renji screamed, his hands shielding his buttocks and his face redder than ever realizing that he was owned by a young-looking boy.

"Yeah, and why the hell are you laughing?! _It's not funny, you sick perverts!" Rukia almost screeched, covering her buttocks as well when she saw Karakura high school's notorious sexual deviant, Chizuru._

"_Ah, c'mon, where's your sense of humor?" Mizuiro panted in his laughter. "We just wanted to go on with the new prank!"_

"_Yeah, and to get on Tosh.0!" Chizuru chimed in. She turned to the camera and said to the lense, "The bitches have been Qaffadi'ed!"_

_For a while, Rukia and Renji silently steamed in their embarrassment and rage, standing there and glaring at the giggling teens. They then resumed swearing at the top of their lungs as they ran after the now-running pair, casting and missing bakudo after bakudo between each curse word._

_Hoped you like, dudes! Oh, and a quick note: I do not recommend the Tosh.0 show. I only mentioned it because the Qaffadi pranks were the only trend that I was able to think of, and since Daniel Tosh did it first, I gave credit to him. After hearing his poor attempt of a rape joke at a woman who attended one of his shows, and even worse attempts at making racist and sexist jokes on a weekly basis, I can say that it's better to not watch his show or anything. But that's just my opinion._


	7. Chapter 7

Another chapter of a fanfic about two characters of an anime that I do not claim ownership to. *killing two birds with one stone FTW! :D*

Yoruichi felt completely infuriated as well as completely foolish. She felt completely infuriated because of this new fad raging about that had degraded her entire life as a Soul Reaper and highest-ranking stealth warrior, a reputation and status she had built with her own two blood-covered (metaphorically-speaking) hands. She felt foolish because not only did she allow this stupid trend to get to her, but she had let it cripple her to the point that she had to be baby sat by Kisuke.

The Soul Society ordered Yoruichi to have Kisuke around her at all times when they felt her spiritual pressure rise with unbridled fury, watching her at all times and diminishing her worth as a warrior and as an adult- a _centuries-old _adult. They didn't want to take the chance of leaving her alone so that could she have the chance to unleash those stupid trendsetters, so they ordered Kisuke as her guardian until she calm her nerved. She was happy to have Kisuke as her watcher, though; because they were best friends, he knew what to say and not say to her, when to back off so she can have her space to breathe, and he had even let her squeeze her fury out onto his hand without telling her that he was losing his feeling in that hand and that he was afraid it was going to have to be amputated if she continued. He didn't even bother to ask what was pissing her off to begin with; he just knew that if it was bad enough to make the usually-playful Yoruichi sour, it was really bad.

They were currently walking to his shop, Yoruichi's hand crushing the bones of Kisuke's hand again, when they walked by a group of teenage boys, snickering gleefully with each other. By the way Yoruichi's back tensed up and her teeth gritted when she noticed them, Kisuke knew they weren't strangers to her.

They were passing the boys, and Yoruichi's posture relaxed a bit. But then it started.

"Aw, look at that dude, holding his little girlfriend's hand! How cute!" One voice mocked, causing Yoruichi's back to tense up again.

"But you should know, dude," another voice spoke up, "That a woman's hands are good for only one thing."

"Really? What's that?" A third voice asked.

"When they're not put to work giving men hand jobs, they should be put to work making men sammiches!" The first voice chortled, earning him a chorus of laughter from his buddies.

Kisuke looked at his friend, his distressed companion who tried everything in her power to keep her cool and stay dignified. Seeing the veins throb in her temples and the tears of humiliation begin to form in her eyes, He knew it was killing her to do so. He let go of her hand.

"K-Kisuke!" Yoruichi whispered loudly, panicking that she was losing her source of calm. "What're you-?"

Kisuke slipped a pair of leather fighting gloves into her palm, whispering in her ear, "I won't tell. Show them what a woman's hands can _really _do." He then added, "And teach them some math, too; that boy needs to learn how to count."

Yoruichi looked at Kisuke and then the gloves. She then smirked and turned towards the boys, sliding the gloves onto her hands. "Gladly," she purred.

Kisuke smiled at the sounds of cracked bones and cries of torment resonating from the boys and shook his head. Just because Yoruichi was playful doesn't mean she wouldn't tolerate sexist jokes…


	8. Chapter 8

Inspiration! Inspiration! Inspiration! Inspiration for this chapter struck me like lightning! And it felt GREAT! *O*

Disclaimer: the only Bleach I own is the bottle of Clorox in the laundry room, and since my aunt bought it, not even _that _is mine. I own absolutely _nothing_! ;A;

Rangiku walked along the Soul Society's road alongside Ichigo, barely concentrating on telling him his instructions for his new position as Toshiro's temporary assistant captain while she was to lead a month-long mission to investigate the Bermuda Triangle. Her mind was wandering to other matters, like renewing her list of things that she hates the most. Occupying the top rank of that list is men flirting with her.

Yes, as shocking as that might be for many, Rangiku hated flirting.

Well, she shouldn't say she hated flirting altogether. Rangiku did enjoy the attention she was getting from men who thought that she was attractive, and she liked it even more when they were brave enough to tell her in her face. But then it became worse over the decades: what used to be flirting and compliments turned into groping and unrealistic "demands" from the overly-perverted douchebags, and what used to be flirting within the bars and sauna room turned into inappropriate comments and innuendo in the office and fighting court. These fools just didn't know when to recognize her as a sexy bitch in one aspect and respect her as an assistant captain and top-ranking shinigami in another aspect, nor did they know when they are crossing the line- like not disrespecting her as if she was a prostitute or not fearing her authority like she was some sort of dictator. But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst that has happened to her was when some idiotic punks picked up some new craze from the human world and mixed it up as their new flirting technique.

The memory of the first time she ever experienced that stupidity flashed across her mind, making her sigh and rub the bridge of her nose in frustration. Ever since that little "flirting" scheme, more men became inspired and reenacted it every time Rangiku passed by, and it honestly left her headaches.

"Um, Miss Rangiku?" Ichigo gently prodded as he gazed at her with his form of concern (his eyes and tone showing his worry, but his frown and furrowed eyebrows showing otherwise). "Miss Rangiku, are you okay?"

Rangiku looked at her young charge and feigned a cheerful smile. "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's just that you started giving me my instructions bit by bit, and then you just trailed off completely for about ten minutes now…"

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Rangiku laughed nervously. She cleared her throat as if to say something, but had let the space between them fill with awkward silence again.

After a few moments passed, Rangiku cleared her throat to try giving the instructions again, but she was interrupted as Ichigo pointed ahead and stated matter-of-factly, "Hey, looks like Shuuhei is coming our way."

Rangiku looked up and sure enough, there was Shuuhei, frantically waving his arms about to grab their attention as he sprinted towards them. As he came closer, she noticed that there was a hint of pink rising on his cheeks. "Uh, is there something wrong, Shuuhei?" she asked.

Shuuhei looked away nervously, his cheeks deepening into a fiery red. "I-it's nothing much, really. I just- uh…" He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. "I-listen, for the longest time I've wanted to tell you something important, and I've been holding it in for the longest because I had no idea how to tell you, but now I can…"

As if on cue, Ikkaku and six lower ranking shingami jumped off the roofs of the surrounding buildings, landing perfectly behind (or in Ikkaku's case, beside) Shuuhei. They took a stiff bodyguard pose, their eyes stern and set on Rangiku and Ichigo. Frightened and alert, Rangiku placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, and Ichigo, ever the chivalrous knight, stood in front of her and grip the hilt of his sword over his shoulder. They both scanned the group in front of them before focusing on Shuuhei again.

"S-Shuuhei?! Ikkaku?! What is this?!" Rangiku questioned loudly.

"Yeah, Shuuhei?!" Ichigo interjected. "What's wrong with you? Why are you trying to attack Rangiku?"

"Quiet down, Substitute!" Ikkaku barked. "We're not going to attack our own ally, you fool!"

"Right," Shuuhei nodded in agreement. "I would never hurt Rangiku, not as an ally and not as a friend… Ikkaku…"

Ikkaku stepped away from the group in a small distance. He crouched and clapped his hands together. "Hado number 32!" he chanted. His hands glow a pale blue and a small black box materialized in front of him. It took Ichigo and Rangiku a few moments to realize that Ikkaku summoned…

"A boombox?" Ichigo and Rangiku observed together.

"Yes, a boombox," Shuuhei replied stoically. "It's to help me get my point across…"

Both Ichigo and Rangiku were still confused over the matter, but it only took Shuuhei taking out a pair of large, dark shades from the folds of his kimono for realization to hit Rangiku. "Oh, Shuuhei, please don't tell me…"

"Ikkaku! Go!" Shuuhei instructed, not hearing Rangiku. Ikkaku nodded, pressed the play button, and quickly ran back to his place beside Shuuhei before the song began playing. The group took a horse-riding stance, placing their hands on their hips.

Shuuhei looked at Ikkaku with a faux cocky smirk. "Oppa Gangnam Style!"

And the dance began, the shinigami doing some silly stomping routine that they copied from Psy's music video, not once noticing Rangiku hiding her face in her hands in pure embarrassment. Shuuhei and Ikkaku were singing along, and rather poorly.

Ichigo's fighting stance relaxed as he had a bemused grin on his face, an eyebrow cocked and a laugh barely escaping his mouth. "Gangnam Style? Was this that was-?"

"Yes," Rangiku answered.

Ichigo crossed his arms, his grin melting into a scowl. "Getting another headache?"

"Yeah," Rangiku replied as she rubbed the temples of her head.

"Heh, I've been there," Ichigo stated as he continue to watch Shuuhei's "love confession," shaking his head as Shuuhei shouted "Heeeeey, sexy lady!" and let Ikkaku slide under him like a horse.

Okay, before anyone gets the wrong idea: I _love _Gangnam Style. I know, know, hipster-haters, you're all going to complain about how mainstream it is and think that I'm some sort of stupid sheep for liking it, but to be honest, you all would be stupid for thinking so. I like it because I find it funny and creative and I feel really sexy dancing to it! …Moving on… ._.

The idea to have the new trend happen with shinigamis and to bring Ichigo back came from Mathlete64, and as I watched the Gangnam Style music video for the millionth time and noticing how it seems that Psy was flirting, the thought of using Rangiku came to me! Hoped you like!


	9. Chapter 9

Well, whaddya know, I don't own Bleach…Surprise, surprise…

The streets were unsafe for Orihime.

Recently, the once peaceful, safe routes Orihime usually took had taken a dire turn for the worse. Day after day, a simple stroll around the block had to be taken with more caution, more attention, and more trepidation than Orihime cared to utilize. There used to be a time that Orihime- or anyone really- was able to walk safely alone after a hard day of school, not having to worry about making a wrong step that could ultimately lead to her harm; she was even able to read her "Guides to High-End Comedy" and divert her attention without a worry. Now those days of tranquility were gone, taken away by sordid buffoons who took it upon themselves to terrorize the residents of Karakura town. Even worse, these people couldn't be arrested for their acts, because under the law they were simply delinquents, in the view of social medias, they were trend followers, and in the eyes of Ichigo Kurosaki, they were just "idiotic sheep."

Because they were simply following a trend, and not adding to the rate of robberies or murders, the "sheep" were free from any serious punishment from the police. Sure, they'd get a few fines here and there if their acts truly caused a large public disturbance, but Orihime wished that the punishment was a bit harsher to this thing so that a boundary could be set and this trend could slow down and make walking alone and concern-free a luxury again. At first, Orihime supported this whole thing because she was big on free expression, especially if the expression was funny- and the new trend was definitely silly to the point of making her laugh her guts out- but now it was spreading like an imprudent rash. The trend followers weren't just endangering the streets: they were endangering sidewalks, stairs, public parks, the school track-

"Ow, ow ow!" Orihime cried. While letting her mind wander to the problem she was burdened with and her eyes wander the nighttime sky, Orihime completely tripped on something and fell to the ground, spraining her wrist as she tried to catch herself. When she stood up, Orihime looked for the source of her stumble, and almost screamed in terror as her eyes landed on a still body on the sidewalk. But with closer inspection of the body, she saw that it wasn't a corpse or an unconscious person. The body was too stiff, and his shoulders were rising and lowering with each breath. His arms were held too close to the sides and too high off the ground, another telltale sign that the person was very much alive.

Orihime sighed in a mixture of relief and frustration. Gingerly holding her injured wrist close to her chest, Orihime prodded the person lying on the concrete ground with her foot. "U-um, sorry about that," she said quietly to the person lying on the ground. When no reply came from the very committed man, Orihime sighed again and walked away, making mental notes to see the clinic for her wrist. She really wanted to kick every Plank that littered the streets. Even more, she wanted to kick the person who first created planking.

Seriously, what the heck is this "planking" thing about? O_o


	10. Chapter 10

Oh, my fudge! I was so focused on writing my other stories and being lazy that I forgot about this baby! (Well, not really; I just ran out of ideas and stuff for this.) I'm sorry! A million apologies!

Bleach isn't mine, and don'tcha forget it! *thumbs up*

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><p><em>I wish I hadn't came here, <em>rang the thought of Yumichika Ayasegawa as he scoffed and crossed his arms.

Not long ago, Yumichika was ordered by Captain Kenpachi Zaraki to stake out on Karakura town for any suspicious behavior in the world of the living, and he complied with much eagerness (it was a good way to get away from Hinamori's sickening "goody-goody two shoe" aura and scope out the latest fashion clothing of the living, which was killing two birds with one stone, really). But now, as he stood among the environment of fashion-challenged freaks of nature, as he did when he first arrived here for his new mission, he was starting to suspect that maybe, just _maybe, _it was all a joke.

How could it _not _be? Standing among this sick excuse for a new trend was eating away at Yumichika's very instinct to shut his eyes and not have to bear through the grotesque sight of what he was currently standing in and had to live in for the next few weeks, but as per the training of the highest-skilled shinigami, he must remain alert and aware of his surroundings. That means keeping his eyes peeled on the world. Even at the killers of fashion themselves. Kenpachi knew this and knew that Yumichika knew this and would never tarnish his reputation as a high-ranking shinigami for the sole purpose of protecting his mind from such shame before it completely scars him for life, and he was just yanking Yumichika's chain because of that damn new prankster personality he developed-

Yumichika shook his head wildly before those thoughts gone too wild and transformed him into another paranoid conspiracy-follower. There's absolutely no way that Captain Zaraki would be so cruel that he'd torture his subordinates in such a way. Sure, he'd fight and kill anyone who can wield a sword without a moment's hesitation because of his insatiable need to fight and his not-so hidden fetish for sadism, but he wouldn't make his victims suffer in such a lowly way? ...Would he? He wouldn't _really _make his victims of his latest, torturous "pranks" do humiliating and mind-scarring things like go to Justin Bieber concerts without at least taking a shot at mortally wounding the kid or making them walk around with a tramp stamp bear and open for the public eye, right?

_No, no, no! I knew that son of a bitch for a long time, and he wouldn't sink this low, _Yumichika assured himself. _Nope, not at all! _Smiling to himself, Yumichika began the life-saving process of erasing the current illness that humans were calling "trends" with a series of hot clothing designs that he was going to have on the racks of clothing stores someday. Laying out a hot pink floral design for a line of kimonos, Yumichika walked absentmindedly into a passerby.

"D'oh, um, sorry," Yumichika muttered.

"Hey, watch where ya goin', why don'tcha?!" The passerby grumbled.

"I just said I- Hey, wait a second! Ikkaku, what the hell are you doing here?"

The passerby, who so happened to be Ikkaku Madarame, smirked. "Oh, well, looky here, I finally found the person I've been searching for! Where the hell have ya been, Ayasegawa? You need to increase your spiritual pressure so I can keep up with you."

"The hell? Why would you need to 'keep up' with me? And what the heck are you even doing here?!" Yumichika regarded his fellow squad member with an interrogative stare.

"...Hey, do you have some money, I'm tapped out and a bit hungry-"

"Dammit, Ikkaku, quit avoiding my question, you idiot!"

Ikkaku sighed and smirked again. "Man, you really don't know how to keep up a friendly conversation, do you? Anyway, I'm here under Captain Zaraki's orders."

When Ikkaku paused, Yumichika's eyebrow twitched with irritation. "...Which are?" he prompted through gritted teeth.

"To be sure that you're doing you're job right and staying on guard. Which, judging by the way you just bumped into me with this drooly dazed look in your eyes, you haven't."

"I-I _have _been doing my job, you twit!" Yumichika protested. "Besides, it's kind of hard to even know what you're looking out for when the specifics are withheld. I mean, all I know is to watch for strange phenomenon! What the hell kind of detail is that?!"

Ikkaku smiled goofily. "Wow, they seriously haven't told you yet?"

"Told me what?!"

"Well, I guess I now know why the captain told me to get this then," Ikkaku muttered to himself. Before Yumichika could ask what he meant, Ikkaku turned around and flipped up his shirt, snickering as Yumichika gasped and ranted dramatically. Running down both sides of his back were metal rings pierced through his flesh, and strung through those rings like shoelaces were silky lace. Where most of the idiotic humans who had these chose to have only one color lace, Ikkaku went for the multi-colored style and had the entire rainbow spectrum.

"Ew!" Yumichika cried and raised his arms up as if the sight was going to attack him. "You had a freaking corset piercing?!"

"Heck yeah, I did!" Ikkaku shouted excitedly. "Hurt like a bitch, too!"

Yumichika lowered his arms. "...Are they...still sensitive?"

"Like crazy. I mean, I got this bad boy like weeks ago and they still-OW! Owowowowowowow!" Ikkaku fell to the ground and arched his back after Yumichika slapped the rings pierced through his skin. Yumichika watched Ikkaku writhe on the sidewalk and chuckled darkly to himself before walking over Ikkaku and heading towards a spa.

_Well, I guess those piercings aren't as bad as I thought! _Yumichika thought as he passed people with the same piercing, not so bothered by them anymore.

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><p>Dudes, seriously, those corset piercings are awful! They look beyond gross and downright dangerous! I mean, make one bad move and...ouch!<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Wow, I haven't updated this fic in a _long _time; I think I can some dust on this thing. *wipes the dust off* Which is why I have to say that after I hit chapter 13 or 14 of this (however it'll work out) I'm cutting the lifeline off this. I've been dragging this one along for too long and I have no more ideas, and I have other fics to attend to, so this is going to end with a bang (not really a bang so much so as a sizzle). It was cool to have you awesome readers love and review this, though, so thank you! n_n

If I owned Bleach, the filler arc thing would have never happened.

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><p>Like the millions of intelligent beings on this earth who've had a chance to listen to actual music with a hint of talent and originality before having their minds poisoned, Toshiro Hitsuguya hated Justin Bieber.<p>

Unlike his Bieber fever-crazed lieutenant, Toshiro can actually sense why a no-talent hack like Bieber shouldn't grace the limelight while other, more deserving artists are shrouded within the black unknown: he can't sing, he has poor fashion taste, his singing skills rival that of a monotone elephant with electronic effects, he's a flimsy douchebag trying to act tough on camera, he can't sing a single lyric without having to turn to auto tune, he looks like a girl- which wouldn't be so bad if he actually looked _good-,_ and he sells crap for music.

Did he mention that Justin Bieber sucks at singing?

But even with all of those reasons to hate the talentless "singer" filling his list, none of them currently took the top of the list as with the new fad appearing among the Belieber community. Yes, there is something much bigger and more idiotic that the fans have concocted than their buying the celebrity's albums and merchandise and tagging, sharing, and liking his videos on that video website the humans frequent so much; it was even worse than that Gangnam Style dance currently spreading throughout the Soul Society like an annoying K-pop virus. Heck, he could even go so far as to say that this new trend would've made him lose all hope in humanity and question the "intellect" humans supposedly had if he wasn't introduced to some new genre called indie rock. He has been through battles and wars; he has seen bloodshed and has even caused some of his own; he saw the lowliest forms of human degradation unfold before him as he watched the human live their lives in the mortal world; if he was able to keep faith in humans for that long after all of those hardships, then one can be sure that this new craze in the name of this almighty Justin Bieber was pretty horrid if it could change his view on human beings so easily.

But this new trend is a bit amusing, if not horrifically sad. It did give Toshiro a glimpse of one of the lowliest forms of human cult creation that he has ever seen, enabling him to watch how far humans will sink to prove that their hero worship was genuine through and through. He was actually quite amazed at how stupid and easily manipulated mortals were under the influence of a kid whom didn't even know of their existence, as sickening and pitiful as that fact was.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration at these observations, Toshiro tiredly slouched his way to the couch with his laptop under his arm. He sunk into the firm cushions and laid the laptop on his lap, powering it up and logging himself in. Once he was on his desktop, he logged onto his Twitter account to check up on important news; against her better judgment and Toshiro's advice, Rangiku suggested that the Soul Reapers sign up for this social website to share information whenever any of them had to go to Earth and can't make it to the meetings, and as much as it worried Toshiro that humans will learn of their existence, it went really well; not many people followed the Soul Reapers, and those who happen to pass their "Tweets" assume that they were doing a strange supernatural story roleplay and dismissed it as unimportant and "nerdy". With that problem resolved, Toshiro can hope that the current one that troubled him- the stupid, new trend- has died down.

However, when he scrolled down the many old Tweets, one post- a Tweet that shouldn't have even been in his account- caught his eye.

_#Cut4Bieber _

In this particularly long post, the idiot explained the entire situation of Justin Bieber: how he was caught smoking marijuana, how he was arrested for the illegal act, and how they as Beliebers must show their support by cutting their wrists and posting the photos of the act on Twitter and Facebook and whatever else social media they can post photos. And post photos they did: in a neat little hyperlink under the Tweet, thousands of cut, bloodied arms and wrists blared into Toshiro's eye sockets, blinding him with the Bieber idiocy and churning his stomach in an angry knot. He slammed his laptop shut without even bothering to properly shut it down.

Toshiro hated Justin Bieber and everything about him. Sure, his anger was misplaced; Bieber didn't ask for his fans to do such a heinous act like it was simply another Internet petition, and those idiotic fangirls didn't know that it was all just a farce to see how stupid they really are (their becoming Bieber fans should've been a big clue) so he should hate the creator of this trend- some basement-dwelling Reddit troll- but if it wasn't for Justin being famous, then these rabid fangirls wouldn't have someone to idolize to the point of self-mutilating worship, right?

"Freaking idiots," Toshiro grumbled to himself, half-laughing at the sorry, easily manipulated Beliebers plaguing the world over.

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><p>Sorry to take the humor out of this fic, but I just had to address this as soon as I found out about this. I mean, seriously? These fans are going to take a serious act of self-harm that can kill people and turn it into some little fangirl protest? These Beliebers are seriously going to protest Bieber's arrest because <em>he <em>as an _adult chose _to do something that he knew was illegal and was going to get him arrested when he was caught by _cutting themselves? _What's really sad is that a) As a celebrity, he wasn't even going to get a harsh consequence, especially for a nonviolent crime and b) This whole Cut4Bieber trend was just a troll's joke. Even if it was a real protest for Bieber's _rightful _arrest, why do that? Why not make petitions or some shit instead of making a mockery of a terrible act? I know that my frustration is directed in the wrong direction, but I just hate stupid people.

And they wonder why people think Bieber fans are stupid...


	12. Chapter 12

Suggested by the awesome copycat15! :D

Disclaimer: I no own Bleach. Sowwy~!

Never before had Juushiro Ukitake seen such arrogance. More accurately, never before had Ukitake beheld such arrogance displayed with such a stupid-looking method.

As a man who've lived centuries and had bounced between the Sei Rei Tei and Earth, Juushiro has certainly seen without a doubt a variety of... "uniqueness" (Toshiro wanted to call it human stupidity, but that seemed a bit too rash for Ukitake's view) throughout his entire life both alive and dead. And because he wasn't one to simply dismiss anything before giving it at least one chance, he decided to follow what Shunsui said the humans called "trends." For a while, he enjoyed the silly little whims of the human world as the humans- mostly the teenager- created and followed until the newest one came along. It was definitely fun to see people argue over which trend was better and more legitimate, as if something so trivial as a song or clothing style was so significant it had to be worked-up over.

But then _this _thing came along.

Juushiro didn't really know what this new thing was that went viral both in the Internet world and the real world, nor did Shunsui, his go-to man for information on "new, fresh things," the humans picked up and shared amongst themselves. But if he could give it a name, he'd call it idiocy. Arrogance. Mediocrity. There were more, but his head had been going through migraine troubles to allow him to think up of more.

Still, no matter what name it's under, the simple trend was awful. It was bad enough for Juushiro to stomach that type of stuff from that feather-flaunting peacock Yumichika, the cold "better-than-thou" Byakuya, and the King of Intelligence who's not afraid to declare his title and make you feel more like an idiot just for standing next to him, Mayuri. Now humans are into the cocky attitude and behavior so much that they actually put whatever creative talents and technological resources they have into recreating it, sharing it, and just plain _worshipping _it. Honestly, Juushiro had more faith in the human mind; back in his day, such behavior would've been deplorable and the perpetrators would've been immediate outcasts and their pedestal knocked down into crumbling dust. Then again, back in the days meant that a woman could be a pariah for being infertile, or a person could be killed for being ill beyond cures to save the community the trouble, a person like himself.

Juushiro shook his head and rubbed his temples; he knows when he's thinking too much into this new headache-causing human fad when he's comparing it to more positive societal progress. He sat up in his cot with his eyes squeezed shut to block out any blinding sunlight and reached for the cup of herbal tea and bottle of penicillin that usually was set on the small table beside him when he awoke from his rest. Yet when he didn't feel the items in his palms, he felt around the smooth, cool surface to find it empty.

"Oh, no," Juushiro groaned. "Please don't tell me I forgot to ask for a refill. Ugh, I hate going to Unohana myself; she creeps me out too much." He cleared his throat and called out to the open air, "Kiyone? Sentaro? Are either of you here? Can you help me out, please?" There was only silence as a reply.

_Huh, that's strange, _Juushiro thought, _they'd usually come just by hearing me move around in my cot. I wonder where they have...? _He then started to hear whispers and excited sniggering. _Oh, is that them? Funny, it sounds too friendly for it too be them._

Even though Juushiro couldn't see what was going on, he could tell that two, maybe three, people entered his room from the sound of his door sliding open and feet stepping inside. The giggling and whispering stopped.

"O-oh, Captain Ukitake, sir! You're up already?" A young woman's voice, one that Juushiro recognized as Kiyone's, asked.

"Yes, I am," Juushiro sighed. "And I'm out of penicillin and tea. Can you-?"

"Oh, of course, Captain Ukitake, sir!" Sentaro- his identity given away by his gruff, militant-like bark- snapped obediently. But then his voice softened when he added, "B-but first, sir, there's something that came to our attention that we believe you must see immediately, sir!"

"Oh, really, now? Is it some terrible news that I must report?"

"Not at all, sir!" Kiyone chirped. "We just have something _amazing _to show you! It's really awesome, sir!"

"Um, okay...?"

"But it kind of requires you to open your eyes, sir."

"Oh, right, of course." Juushiro slowly opened his eyes to ease in sunlight in small, tolerable amounts. When his eyes adjusted, Juushiro stared at the sight that greeted him. "What the...?" He trailed off. _What the hell are they wearing?_

Instead of the usual (and mandatory) Soul Reaper uniform with the black kimono, white lining, and flexible straw sandals, Kiyone wore a very loose pink tee shirt that hung from her shoulders and depicted a strange pair of aviator sunglasses painted neon-green on the front, and on her legs were a pair of shiny, golden-colored leggings with a pair of leather boots tied up to her knees. Sentaro had on a lime green tee shirt under a blue sweater vest and animal print spandex with blue and green plaid canvas shoes. They both wore a ridiculous amount of jewelry and oversized sunglasses (which made Kiyone's face unbelievably babyish) that clashed horribly with they're already-tacky outifts.

"...What is this?" Juushiro asked.

"It's the newest, coolest thing going international among the human world, Captain Ukitake!" Sentaro replied.

Juushiro sighed. "Let me guess: 'I'm Sexy and I Know It,' right?"

"Wow, sir! You're right!" Kiyone squealed, shaking her fists eagerly. "How did you know?!"

"I...have my ways. Now, is this all?"

"Not at all, sir! We even learned the dance! We'd like you to-"

"No."

"What? But sir, we've practiced!" Kiyone folded her hands and pouted. Behind the sunglasses, Juushiro knew that she was doing her begging puppy eyes, something that Juushiro was too soft to resist.

"Fine, I'll see it," Juushiro sighed again.

Kiyone and Sentaro jumped up and down excitedly before Sentaro snapped his fingers and techno-pop music boomed from out of nowhere. They started to shuffle their feet rapidly, twisting and twirling around, and then they just jumped and stood still, bending their back inward and sticking their pelvises out.

_"-I'm sexy and I know it!"_

And then they started to wiggle their hips with smug written all over their faces, just like the LMFAO "rappers." Just seeing Sentaro thrust his hips in the air with those shape-hugging spandex shorts gave Juushiro more than enough disturbing phallic images than he cared to have.

_"Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, yeah! Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, yeah!"_

Juushiro slowly closed his eyes, hoping that the two "performers" didn't notice his doing so. He can already feel his stomach twist up in nausea; it can only take so much shallow and haughty garbage without his daily dose of medicine to get him through the day. He officially decided to not give so much faith in one's intelligence before seeing their true colors.

_"Girl, look at that body! Girl, look at that body! Girl, look at that body! I work out!"_

...And he officially decided to not go to public gyms, anymore. He cracked open his eye and watched his subordinates switch from what actually looked like passable choreography to spazzing out and throwing their body limbs around. He started to wonder if he could will his body hard enough to pass out and stay comatose until the whole thing passes over.


End file.
